


Focus

by Devereauxs_Disease



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: And a submissive streak?, Basically he needs the cannibooty IMMEDIATELY, Crack and Smut, Hannibal and Will are on the run, Hannibal pulls out a pair of new glasses, M/M, Will Graham discovers he has a glasses kink, all because Mads wore some damn glasses
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27392551
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Devereauxs_Disease/pseuds/Devereauxs_Disease
Summary: When Hannibal pulls out a pair of reading glasses while on a train to Sweden, Will realizes that he apparently has a bit of a glasses kink. And maybe a submissive streak as well. Can Will get over his glasses obsession? And does Hannibal want him to?ORDev had feelings about Mads' glasses at the Cologne Film Festival.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 44
Kudos: 621





	Focus

**Author's Note:**

> You voted - 11 to 3. Glasses porn it is! This story is based ENTIRELY on how hot Mads looked in his glasses at the Cologne Film Festival, so you know...*shrugs* 
> 
> As always, my undying love goes to Gwilbers for catching all my errors.

Will tried to keep his shoulders from hunching, forcing himself to settle back in the seat of the crowded train car. People didn’t notice you if you looked like you belonged. That practice had kept him and Hannibal alive for nearly two years now. Beyond slight alterations in their appearance, they’d successfully flown under the radar using nothing but sheer confidence.

Hannibal had carefully adjusted their images in small ways that helped them elude notice as they moved through crowds. Will’s casual clothes were upgraded only slightly. Will remembered a time when he lived in terror of Hannibal handing him an orange and blue windowpane three-piece suit, but Hannibal had merely changed the quality and fit of most of his garments. Soft flannel shirts or cashmere sweaters over well-fitting jeans left Will feeling like a better version of himself. The type of man who belonged at the side of a fancy society psychiatrist.

Will had a full beard now — neatly trimmed and just thick enough to disguise the jagged line of the Dragon’s mark on his cheek. His hair was longer too, curls gelled back in a way he could never quite get right. Well, maybe he could get it right. Maybe he just liked the feel of Hannibal tutting softly behind him before taming Will’s curls with a few passes of his strong fingers.

Will smiled, tracing his own hand through his curls, chasing the phantom sensation of Hannibal’s hands. He studied the man seated across from him, currently reading Frederick Chilton’s newest tell-all, _Borne from the Flames_. Lounds had written the foreword, which Hannibal had gleefully read to Will while they lunched in the café car. But the book wasn’t what caught Will’s attention, it was the latest addition to Hannibal’s traveling disguise.

The doctor had long ago abandoned his ostentatious outfits for less striking, but beautifully tailored suits. Hannibal was in his charcoal grey suit today, a subtle pinstripe curving along his broad chest and shoulders. The tie at his throat was equally subdued, a brown and cream stripe that picked up the softer tones of his bone oxford shirt. But Hannibal had always cut a fine form in a suit, Will had thought himself immune to that knowledge by now. What he wasn’t immune to, however, were the square frame grey readers perched upon Hannibal’s nose.

Will made a noise at the sight of the glasses. Hannibal looked up, eyebrow raised. Will leaned forward, Hannibal, annoyingly, stayed still.

“You don’t wear glasses,” Will whispered harshly.

Hannibal glanced down. “You don’t wear navy socks with black leather shoes, yet here we are.”

Will glared. “Why are you wearing those?”

Hannibal settled back in his chair. “Perhaps it was part of my disguise. Perhaps I didn’t want to squint at this small text for six hours. Perhaps I did it merely to annoy you.”

Hannibal raised his book, evidently ending the conversation. Will continued to glower at the glasses, peeking over the edge of the book.

It was fucking criminal, was what it was. Granted, Will and Hannibal were, technically, criminals. But still, it was deeply unfair how good Hannibal Lecter looked in a pair of reading glasses, grey locks falling over his forehead to rest on the frames, nose wrinkling subtly when they slipped, only to bring a strong hand up and push them up the bridge of his nose. Will had an image of Hannibal at a podium, reading notes about Caravaggio’s use of light from small cards as he addressed a class. Professor Lecter, the student body’s favorite lecturer, who would kindly dismiss the other students from class before calling Will back to discuss a paper.

_Mr. Graham, this paper is riddled with errors._

_Is it?_

_Are you intentionally trying to provoke me, Mr. Graham?_

_Of course not, professor, why would I do that?_

_So I would keep you after class._

_What? No! Professor, please!_

_If you fail to meet my standards, I’m afraid I’ll have to find other ways to impress them upon you._

_No, sir, please!_

_Bend over the desk, Will._

“Will.” The empath jumped when a supple leather loafer pinned his foot to the ground. “WILL.”

“Huh?” Will knew he was panting, but his current state wasn’t helped by the vision before him. Hannibal was peering over his glasses, offering Will an annoyed stare. Will felt his cock throb at the image before him.

“You were tapping your shoe as if you were communicating in morse code.” Hannibal raised an eyebrow. “Would you please refrain?”

“Yeah,” Will shook his head. Hannibal offered him another chastising look that did nothing to stop the persistent need in his pants.

“Thank you.” Hannibal dropped his attention back to his book. Will felt cold suddenly without that withering superior stare. He stared at Hannibal. So fine, so enthralled in his book, so not paying attention to him.

Will raised the toe of his shoe and let it drop — Once, twice, three times. Hannibal’s shoulders stiffened minutely, but he didn’t look up again. Will started tapping more forcefully. He began to tap the opening of Eine Kleine Nachtmusik, grinning when he saw Hannibal’s lip curl.

“Will,” Hannibal hissed. That withering glare was back, bloody eyes framed perfectly by grey glasses. “What are you-”

Will lunged, grabbing Hannibal’s wrist and yanking him out of his seat. Chilton’s book fell to the floor, pages crinkling as Will kicked it away and dragged them to the end of the car. Their cabin was three cars away, and Will couldn’t fathom that distance at the moment. So he did the only sensible thing: He shoved Hannibal into a vacant bathroom stall.

Hannibal caught himself on the sink, glaring as Will shut the door and engaged the lock.

“Unless I failed to see a team of FBI agents closing in on-” Will hit his knees. “Will?”

“Just shut up,” Will grumbled, fumbling with Hannibal’s belt. He opened Hannibal’s pants and yanked them down his thighs before carefully fishing the doctor’s very interested cock out of his boxers.

“What brought this _ah!_ ” Will licked a long stripe up the underside of Hannibal’s cock before moving back to press soft kisses along the slit. He teased Hannibal’s foreskin, tugging gently with his lips and listening to his cannibal hiss at the sensation. Pushing the skin back, Will ran his tongue around Hannibal’s wet head, flicking at the weeping slit.

Hannibal made a guttural noise, hips jerking. Will glanced up, his beautiful doctor was braced on a sink, hair falling across his forehead and glasses sliding down his nose. Will sucked hard, tongue rolling when Hannibal snarled. Will moved his head slowly, focusing on getting Hannibal’s cock wet, making the slide into his throat good. He felt his own cock pressing desperately against his pants. Moving a hand to his fly, Will froze when Hannibal grabbed a handful of his hair and yanked him back.

“You do not touch yourself.”

“Hann-” The hand tightened and Will moaned as he was shaken slightly.

“Do not disobey me, Will.”

Something taut broke to pieces in Will’s chest, flooding him with warmth.

“Yes s-sir,” He could feel himself shaking, knees aching on the cold linoleum floor and lips slick and cold without Hannibal’s heat.

Hannibal smiled, briefly. With his free hand, he reached up and began to pull off the glasses teetering on the edge of his nose. Will made a noise, a needy little whine that stayed Hannibal’s hand. Maroon eyes swept over his face, cataloging every inch of Will as Hannibal thought. Two heartbeats later, Hannibal’s eyes seemed to glow. Instead of removing the glasses, he pushed them up his nose. The doctor’s shoulders straightened, the hand in Will's hair tightened. “Will? You may continue.”

Will nearly fell upon Hannibal, digging his hands into his cannibal’s hips and lapping lavishly at the ruddy cock before him. He licked along the veins, lazily tracing each ridge and sucking kisses along Hannibal’s frenulum. He wanted to worship Hannibal; offer him every teasing pleasure he knew the doctor enjoyed. But he was pulled off again, lips shining in the fluorescent lights.

“Arrogant boy,” Hannibal reprimanded. Will jerked but managed not to touch his cock. Will felt his cheeks heat, he tried to look away, but Hannibal held him steady — that imperious stare boring into him over the rim of his glasses. “I ask you to pleasure me and you show off instead. It seems I’ll have to show you what to do. Open.”

Will tried to squeeze his legs together, anything to relieve some of the pressure in his pants. Hannibal _tsked_ , his hand clamping on Will’s jaw, thumb pressing into the hinge. Will’s mouth fell open with a soft moan.

“Good.” The word felt like liquid gold being poured down his spine. Will’s skin prickled at the praise. “Now be a good boy and be still.”

Hannibal tangled both hands in Will’s hair, pulling him forward and onto his cock. Will gagged but didn’t struggle, letting Hannibal hit the back of his throat. Hannibal kept the pace languid at first, fucking Will’s face like he had all the time in the world. Will felt drool slipping from the corners of his mouth, wetting his beard and falling in tell-tale droplets along his pants.

When Hannibal tapped the back of his throat, Will groaned, swallowing around the intrusion. Keeping his lips as tight as possible, Will began to move his tongue, undulating slowly as Hannibal continued to fuck his face. He heard a rough moan from Hannibal, feeling as his doctor sped up. Will moaned again, keeping himself open and wanting as Hannibal moved.

Hannibal came with a groan, bucking into Will’s mouth and digging his nails into his fists full of curls. He held Will to his groin as his cock twitched, Will’s nose pressed against Hannibal’s silk boxers as he tried to swallow floods of come. The fingers in his hair softened, petting through the curls. Will didn’t move, carefully swallowing as Hannibal flooded his mouth.

After a few moments, Hannibal pulled Will backward. “Clean me off and put me away.”

Will leaned forward, sucking Hannibal’s cock softly as his tongue worked the softening flesh. Delicately, Will slipped his tongue beneath Hannibal’s foreskin, swirling to gather the last traces of release before gently tucking Hannibal into his boxers. With shaking hands he pulled up Hannibal’s pants, fastening them and notching the belt into place.

“Stand.”

Will rose on wobbly knees, his cock leaking and tenting his pants. Hannibal pulled the glasses down, raising a brow when Will shivered. “Would you like to tell me what that was about?”

“I just wanted-”

“It seems you’re still wanting.” Hannibal nodded at Will’s groin. “Do you expect me to help you with that?”

“Please.”

“Have you earned any help, Will?”

“Hannibal, I-”

“Hannibal?”

Will stilled for a moment, flush creeping up his neck as he licked his lips. “Please, sir.”

Hannibal smiled. Will wanted to live in that expression, feel this breathless joy all the time.

“Come here. You may have my hand.” Will moved toward Hannibal unsteadily, only to be shoved over the sink. That hand was in his hair again, pulling his head up and forcing his gaze to the mirror. Hannibal was over his shoulder, staring at Will with mild disinterest as his free hand lowered Will’s fly and freed his cock from the fine grey slacks.

Hannibal stroked him once, palm dry and tight. Will hissed, letting his eyes fall closed. Hannibal tsked, Will could feel the doctor’s breath in his ear. “I have worked so hard to aid in your becoming. Look at your beautiful clothes, your fine hair…I’ve even introduced you to a higher quality of aftershave.”

Hannibal leaned in, stubbled chin scraping against Will’s neck as he inhaled. “And how do you treat my gifts, Will? How do you show your appreciation? By reeking of sex and falling to your knees in a filthy bathroom.”

Will groaned, knees shaking. Hannibal stepped closer, body bracing Will against the sink. “Is this what you want, Will? Are you going to beg me to allow you to ejaculate into the sink of a public bathroom?”

“P-please,” Will’s heart hammered. Hannibal had solidly pinned him to the sink, but he still tried to roll his hips, to beg friction from Hannibal’s still fingers. “Sir…sir, please.”

“Very well. Eyes on me, please.” Will gasped trying to compose himself. When his breath no longer rattled in his chest, he raised his eyes to meet Hannibal’s gaze in the mirror. Hannibal looked at him over the rims of his glasses. Outwardly, his expression was disinterested, even a little disdainful, but Will could see the traces of warmth swimming in his bloody eyes. “You have ten strokes; I suggest you make the most of them.”

Hannibal pulled Will’s cock in a rough slide. “One.”

Will made a broken noise, eyes trapped on those stupid glasses. His mouth was hanging open as Hannibal worked him, that even voice counting steadily. “Ha-Hann-SIR! _Aah!_ ”

Hannibal twisted his wrist, the slide of his hand now slick with pre-come. His hand lingered around the weeping head of Will’s cock, teasing and pressing. “You’ve got five more strokes, Will. Four. Three.”

Will shook, head falling back to Hannibal’s shoulder. “Close. _Fuck sir_ I…I need.”

Hannibal pressed his lips to Will’s ear, fingernail catching on Will’s frenulum as he hissed. “If you come on your suit pants, I will parade you through every car on this train so the passengers can see what a desperate little slut you are.”

Will bucked forward, body piking as he came all over Hannibal’s hand and the sink. The hand in his hair released, Hannibal’s arm banding around Will’s chest, stroking along Will’s gasping throat and holding him steady. He worked Will through his orgasm almost tenderly, muttering little Italian endearments in Will’s ear as the empath shook and whined.

When Will could breathe without keening again, Hannibal turned on the tap, testing the water before tenderly rinsing the come from his hand and Will’s cock. “Darling? Would you mind standing?”

Will blinked, realizing he was draped along Hannibal like a limpet. With a quavering breath, he locked his knees and took his own weight. “Yeah.”

Watching with hazy eyes, Will tracked Hannibal as he gently tucked away Will’s cock, righted their clothes, and straightened their collective sex hair. A few minutes work and they both looked like respectable men who wouldn’t dream of coming all over the stained sink basin of a train bathroom. His cannibal truly was a little bit magic.

Turning to reach for the door, Will was stopped by a hand on his wrist.

“Would you like to tell me what brought on this absolutely delightful interruption to my afternoon reading?”

Will looked at Hannibal’s glasses, those stupid, criminal glasses. He thought about the words perched on the back of his tongue, dirty words, words like _daddy_ that made Will fill with secret shame. He shook his head, shrugging. “I dunno, just got bored.”

Hannibal watched him for a moment, that intrusive stare that picked at the loose foundations in his skull and wormed into the secret places Will didn’t like exposing. After a moment, he smiled softly. “I shall endeavor to be dull every day in that case.”

Will grinned, rolling his eyes. “You couldn’t be dull if you tried.”

“Neither could you, my cunning boy.” Hannibal opened the door to the bathroom, nodding courteously at the flushed wide-eyed woman waiting outside the bathroom.

* * *

The glasses didn’t make another appearance, Hannibal tucking them into his breast pocket once the train pulled into Umeå. They had a new life to begin, and Will still barely knew enough Swedish to order a coffee.

Will threw himself into settling their home. He was married to the new head of the Umeå University School of Restaurant and Culinary Arts; it would be expected that they host a few social gatherings. While Hannibal was busy making students and faculty swoon as Professor Lucas Östlund revitalized the creative cooking program, Will threw himself into restoring the old house on three acres of property outside the city that Hannibal had purchased. His current project was the dining room, now that the kitchen was done. Will had plans to surprise Hannibal with a wall of herbs, reminiscent of the one the doctor had in Baltimore. This dining room, however, wouldn’t be dark, but airy and open, with full-length windows facing north, so the sun would warm the room all day without blinding the diners.

He stretched as he finished inlaying the irrigation system into the wall. He hadn’t seen Hannibal in hours. Professor Östlund had sequestered himself in his study, busy grading recipe submissions for a catering event the university was hosting. Will frowned, in fact, Hannibal had been so busy with the event that they hadn’t really had time together in a week and a half — both flopping into bed exhausted, waking up interested, but with schedules that drew them away from each other.

It had been too long. Maybe Will could get Hannibal to knock off early tonight? Grab a bottle of wine and try out that sauna he’d rigged a month ago that neither had yet to try. He smiled at the thought, knocking on the closed study door.

“Hannibal?”

There was a sound of motion, papers shuffling, and a desk drawer opening and closing. “Come in.”

Will froze just inside the door. Hannibal was looking up from his papers, those damn glasses perched on his nose. Hannibal regarded him coolly for a moment, before raising an eyebrow and indicating his papers. “Will? Did you need something?”

Christ did he need something. Will swallowed hard. Clearing his throat, Will smiled. “I _uh_ …I guess I was hoping you could take a break.”

Hannibal gave Will a dismissive glance over the rims of the glasses. “Does it appear that I can take a break?”

Will frowned, something bright and furious bubbling in his chest. He’d spent five hours figuring out an integrated irrigation system for a fucking herb wall. There was no fucking way he was getting dismissed. That ungrateful fuck could at the very least — but then Will saw it.

There was a little flame dancing in those imperious eyes, some sort of burning challenge. Will knew it was dangerous to play with fire, especially when Hannibal was the one holding the match, but he couldn’t seem to resist the promise of heat. Will stepped forward placing a hand on the desk. “I haven’t had a meal with you in days, I was hoping-”

“Do you not see the stack of papers on my desk?” Hannibal indicated the stack of several essays sitting to his left.

Will looked at them, let his hand rest on the top of the neatly typed papers. With a quick swipe, the papers were gone, fluttering in an arc around the desk as they landed on the floor. He raised a brow, his cock twitching when Hannibal snarled, pushing the glasses up his nose. “I don’t see any papers on your desk.”

It was easy to forget sometimes that Hannibal killed people to de-stress like others knitted or played video games. He was such a charming sweet monster when he wanted to be. But Will was reminded of exactly why he loved this man when Hannibal lunged, one hand wrapping around Will’s throat and the other around his upper arm. Will let out a choked gasp as he was slammed against the desk.

Will groaned, Hannibal’s large hand pressing his face to the gleaming wood of the desk. Will scrabbled for purchase, knocking over a tiffany pen holder and a mug half-filled with tea. The mess didn’t seem to distract Hannibal, who kept one hand firmly on Will’s head, while the roughly yanked down Will’s pants just enough to expose the empath’s ass. Will’s cock, still trapped in his pants, thickened quickly as he put up just enough of a struggle to make Hannibal force him down.

“Hanni-”

“How dare you use my first name, boy.”

Will made a broken noise, swallowing hard. “Sir, please, I just-”

“You will be silent and still or I will gag you.” Will shuddered at the low voice, back arching to present his ass. Hannibal snorted, running a hand over the cheeks. “Is this what you wanted, Will? Why you interrupted my work? Were you so desperate for attention that you would act like a child? What’s to be done about that?”

Will knew the blow was coming, but when Hannibal’s hand landed on his ass it still sent a shock through his body. A small cry perched under his chin, falling loose when Hannibal struck him again. With every smack, Will seemed to be less in control of the noises he was making, moaning into the desk, fogging the wood with his breath. Hannibal’s hand landed again, Will’s cheek stuck to the desk as his body jolted forward.

“Are you enjoying yourself, Will?” Another smack, another delicious spike of humiliation. Will felt his trapped cock leaking into his boxers. Hannibal’s hand stilled, kneading at the sore flesh of Will’s ass. “I suppose I should enjoy myself too, then.”

Two fingers were shoved in Will’s mouth. He moaned at the intrusion, doing his best to suck at Hannibal’s hand. When Will could feel spit falling from his lips and pooling beneath his face on the desk, Hannibal snatched his fingers back.

“I’m not sure you deserve this much,” Hannibal tutted. He sounded nearly disinterested as he shoved both fingers into Will. The burn was incredible. Will’s toes curled in his shoes, his hands clawing at the desk as Hannibal worked him open. Usually, Hannibal took ages to open Will, the process leaving him floating as Hannibal easily slid in and out, gently influencing his body to open and welcome the intrusion. Today, Will felt flayed, sharp jabs, and scissoring doing nothing to increase his pleasure. In fact, Hannibal seemed to be purposefully avoiding his prostate.

And yet, Will felt nearly dizzy with need. He wanted nothing more than to be split open and had.

When Hannibal’s fingers began to catch and drag painfully, Hannibal shifted, spitting directly into Will’s hole. The sound was positively obscene, Will keened at it, cock twitching and balls drawing tight. He knew he’d come in his pants, but he hoped it would at least be with Hannibal’s cock in his ass.

The sound of Hannibal’s belt slipping out of the buckle rang throughout the room. Will made needy little noises, wiggling as Hannibal’s hand shifted from his head to his upper back — pushing his chest down. Sounds were louder now, fabric rustling and his own desperate breathing ringing in Will’s ears. He heard Hannibal spit again, listening to the sound of him slicking his cock. Will made a pathetic, wanting noise, pushing back, offering himself.

The first shove of Hannibal’s cock made Will scream. It burned. It burned like hell. But Hannibal didn’t stop, pulling back and forcing himself deeper as Will tried to force himself to relax. When Hannibal finally bottomed out, he leaned over Will, grunting into his ear as he drove into the empath’s body. 

Will felt cheap, like some rent boy being used without a thought or care. It made him leak and throb as he was rocked against the desk.

“Do you see the papers now, Will?” Hannibal growled, leaning over Will to huff in his ear. Will moaned, trying to arch back into Hannibal’s thrusts. He nodded, crying out as Hannibal’s thrusts shifted striking into his prostate. Will knew he was crying, could hear the wracked sobs being punched out of his lungs as Hannibal fucked him. He felt like he was floating, his whole body light and electric as Hannibal used it.

Hannibal thrust harder; Will’s vision whited as he felt himself draw tight. Hannibal’s breath was hot in his ear. “Will you be a good boy and pick them up once I’ve come in you?”

“Y-yes s-sir,” Will whispered, voice hoarse. “P-please.”

Hannibal hummed pleased. A large hand squeezed between Will’s jeans and the desk, rubbing at his aching cock. “Then you may come.”

Will made a choking noise, gasping into the table as he came. It was filthy feeling Hannibal rubbing his come all over his boxers and softening cock. Will shuddered at the mess Hannibal made of him. Hannibal fucked him through his own release, before shuddering and filling Will — hand clamping painfully on Will’s cock as he came. The pressure was unbearable, and Will found himself wishing he could get hard again.

They lay slumped on the ruined desk for a few moments, heartbeats slowing and breathing unsteadily. Finally, Hannibal rose, bathing Will in cold air. Will watched as the doctor went about righting his clothes, meticulous hands smoothing his dress shirt, and buckling his slacks. Will stood on shaking knees, pulling up his jeans and hissing as the rough cloth rubbed against his raw flesh. He blushed as he straightened up, feeling Hannibal’s release dripping from him. In spite of the humiliation, he still felt like he was floating. Will dropped to his knees immediately, gathering the papers.

“I’ll see to that, go take a bath.” Will smiled softly, his husband was back, all gentle hands and soothing tones. He simply shook his head and continued gathering the strewn papers, pausing occasionally to blot at a tea stain or shake off pencil filings. When he’d stacked the papers neatly on Hannibal’s desk he pulled out the chair, watching his cannibal expectantly.

Hannibal took a seat, smiling slightly when Will followed him, coiling in his lap. Will blinked, everything felt so heavy now. It seemed impossible that he was still awake.

“Will?” Hannibal’s voice was gentle, his hands rubbing softly along Will’s back as he cradled the man in his lap. “Would you like to talk about-”

Will shifted, righting the glasses on Hannibal’s nose before handing his professor the top paper in the pile. “I want you to grade these so you can take me to bed.”

Hannibal looked at Will a long moment, then ducked to kiss Will’s crown. “Very well.”

Will let himself be angled into a better position as Hannibal began grading papers. Will drifted to sleep with his nose pressed to Hannibal’s throat, the sound of a pen scratching in the background.

* * *

Hannibal snarled, fingers digging into Will’s hips as he pounded Will into the sofa. Will keened softly, legs wrapping around Hannibal’s waist — his pants still dangling from one ankle, shoes tied. Hannibal wasn't much better, still wearing his blazer and shirt, tie undulating with every roll of his hips. Hannibal had done little more than open his belt and slip out his cock before throwing Will to the sofa without a thought to the upholstery. Will groaned when Hannibal forced him down again, strong hands gripping Will’s knees and pulling them back and open.

The position was shameless. Will was bare and spread, a tool for Hannibal’s pleasure as the doctor fucked him with a snarling ferocity Will rarely saw outside of their hunts. Neither of them were getting any younger, but Will found that he still craved Hannibal’s brutality almost as much as he craved his tenderness.

Releasing one leg, Hannibal pushed his glasses up his nose before wrapping long fingers around Will’s throat. Will made a soft gasping noise, pushing into the hold as he wormed a hand between them, fingers just brushing his leaking cock.

Hannibal’s grip tightened. “If you can’t come on my cock like a good whore, I’ll leave you leaking and desperate.”

Will whined, arching up in an attempt to get more friction. “Sir, please.”

“I’d be more inclined to please you if you hadn’t acted like a petulant brat.” Will laughed, the noise mixing with his pleasured huffs. Hannibal managed a smile too, lowering himself a fraction of an inch so that each slide of his body brought mind-bending friction to Will’s cock.

“ _Ah-ah-ah…_ T-thank y-” Will let out a broken moan coming as Hannibal drove into him. The doctor flashed his teeth, following Will a second later, hand still tight around the empath’s neck.

When Hannibal finished trembling, his grip softened. Will filled his lungs with sharp air, feeling high and bright even as he coughed. Hannibal hauled him up, keeping Will in his lap as he cradled the man to his chest. Gentle caresses soothed Will’s throat, kisses peppering behind Will’s ears. Will listened to murmured Lithuanian endearments, smiling when he picked out a few Swedish phrases Hannibal had added to the mix over the years.

Nuzzling into Hannibal’s neck like a contented cat, Will nipped lightly at his husband’s ear. “We’re going to be late, and you’re a mess, Professor Östlund.”

Hannibal made an unhappy noise, but eventually, let his grip on Will drop. Glancing down at his blue velvet blazer, Hannibal scowled. An elegant finger ran through Will’s release; he offered it to Will with a reproving look. “I was going to wear this to the awards ceremony tonight.”

“You should thank me, you look like a sofa in that thing — more so than usual.” Will bit Hannibal’s finger before carefully sucking it clean. He adjusted the glasses on Hannibal’s nose, smiling. “Besides, no one told you to throw me on the couch in the middle of your study and fuck me.”

Hannibal huffed. “No one told you to continually flick my notecards as I practiced my acceptance speech.”

Will raised an eyebrow. It had been nearly ten years, but the sight of Hannibal in those damn readers still spurred something…bratty within him. When Hannibal had asked Will to listen to his speech, he really had intended on listening. It wasn’t his fault that Hannibal had pulled out his readers, glanced imperiously over the rims at Will, cleared his throat, and began to read.

After that it was impossible to sit still — so Will didn’t. He had reached up and flicked the cards, shivering when Hannibal glared in response. It had only taken three more taps before Hannibal threw the cards in the air and Will on the sofa.

“You didn’t need to rehearse that speech,” Will bent to pick up a card, flicking it at Hannibal’s chest. “You’ve probably had an acceptance speech ready since you learned to talk.”

“You don’t think my commitment to education is award-worthy?” Annoyingly, it was. Hannibal turned out to be a better professor than Will ever was. The empath was astounded at how Hannibal shaped his students, giving plucky ones enough courage to experiment with cuisine, nurturing shy chefs into gourmands...and occasionally disappearing the students that didn’t reach his standards. To be fair to himself, Will thought he might have been a better educator if he’d been allowed to kill the annoying students.

Still, Hannibal was being honored for the work he did to make the Umeå University School of Restaurant and Culinary Arts the premier culinary and hospitality program in Europe. But Hannibal didn’t need a bigger ego, so Will merely shrugged. “I think you wouldn’t be getting those awards if they knew what you were serving in classes and at your dinner parties.”

“Michel knew what I served.”

Will squinted. “Michel?”

Hannibal stooped to gather the rest of his notecards. Will noted he didn’t bother ordering them — he probably had the damn speech memorized. “The young man who continually allowed his phone to go off in my lecture last semester.”

“OH! You mean the missing kid? The one you served as a roast during the memorial dinner for him?” Will grinned. “I don’t think that counts.”

“He did know what I was doing with him,” Hannibal snitted. “In fact, I showed him an excellent dry rub that made his leg-”

“Hannibal, if you don’t hurry up and change into another ugly jacket, we’ll miss your damn excellence in education award.” Will stepped into the dangling leg of his pants before grimacing. “I should clean up a bit too.” 

Hannibal grabbed Will’s arm, pulling the empath to his chest. “Don’t.”

Will raised his eyebrows. “You want me dripping at your fancy reception.”

Hannibal made a low noise, kissing Will fiercely. Will clung to him, hands trapped on the doctor’s broad chest. There was no way either of them could get hard again right now but damned if Hannibal wasn’t making him wish they were a bit younger. When he released Will, Hannibal’s eyes were nearly glowing. “I want to smell you all night.”

“And if I let you?” Will bit softly at Hannibal’s jaw. The doctor offered him a small smile.

“If you do, I’ll wear my readers all night.” Hannibal tipped his head forward, offering Will a smug look over the frames.

Will flushed, utterly caught and not particularly caring. Will ran a hand over Hannibal’s coat sleeve. “Wear a jacket you don’t care about, I’d hate to ruin another one.”

Hannibal grinned, before stealing another kiss and running upstairs to change.

* * *

Will grimaced, rubbing his eyes and squinting at the lure before him. Even with the magnifying glass, he couldn’t quite see the finer details of the piece. He noticed he’d been squinting when he showed his students how to take apart engines – he’d just assumed the lighting in the engineering building was bad. He huffed pushing back from his desk — he supposed at pushing 60 it wasn’t too much of a shock that his eyes had started to go.

He moved to Hannibal’s desk, pulling out the top right drawer. He smiled at the contents: A grading notebook, a recipe journal, a scalpel, three lures Will had made for their eighth anniversary, and a pair of gray-framed readers that still made Will shiver whenever he saw them on Hannibal’s nose.

“Are you going through my desk, Will?” Nearly 15 years later, his heart still jumped when Hannibal snuck up on him. Although, Will no longer feared a blade in Hannibal’s hand. In fact, when Hannibal used a blade on him now, it usually meant Will was going to come at least twice.

Will grabbed the readers. “Just wanted to borrow these. I’m getting old, can’t see the knots on my lures anymore.”

A hand brushed through Will’s hair, more salt than pepper, now. Hannibal smiled, tugging a curl. “You are more beautiful today than you were the day I met you in Uncle Jack’s office.”

Will laughed, turning to let Hannibal enfold him in strong arms. “Of course I’m better looking. You pick out my clothes.”

Hannibal shook his head. “It’s not your clothes or hair products. Though I am grateful you allowed me to suggest a different aftershave.”

Will snorted, but his heart beat faster as he saw Hannibal’s bloody eyes turn soft. “You’re more beautiful because you’re loved fully now. Seen and cherished for all that you are.”

Will squinted. “Did you just compliment yourself?”

Hannibal tilted his head to the side, smile curling at the corner of his mouth. “I have done an excellent job.”

“Oh HAVE you?” Will shoved Hannibal back lightly, careful not to put Hannibal too far back so he would be chased. Briskly walking back to the lures, Will settled in the seat, swatting when familiar hands tried to pull him back. “Nope! Get out of here, I’m up to here with your proper loving.”

“Clearly I need to make amends,” Hannibal murmured, hand running along Will’s chest. “Please don’t make me crawl under the desk, Will, my knees aren’t what they used to be.”

Will barked out a laugh, putting the readers on his nose. “Let me finish this tie and then we can discuss how you’re going to apologiz- Hannibal?”

The doctor was still kissing along Will’s neck. “Hmmmm?”

Will pulled the glasses off, holding them up. “These are glass.”

Hannibal didn’t bother looking up from the join of Will’s neck, where he was busy leaving a hickey. “Yes, Will, those are glasses.”

“NO.” Will turned, grabbing Hannibal by the tie and holding him still so the cannibal met his eyes. “There’s no prescription in these lenses.”

Hannibal spared a glance at the grey readers. “Oh, yes, I am aware.”

Will tilted his head. “You’ve worn readers for 15 years that don’t do anything?”

Hannibal’s mouth stretched into a wide smile, tongue tracing along his sharp teeth. “Trust me, handsome boy, those glasses did exactly what I required of them.”

Blinking, Will’s mouth dropped open. All those years, all the times Will had been helplessly, breathlessly taken — “You lied.”

“Will, it was hardly a lie, I noticed your response to a piece of my disguise, and I-”

Will yanked on Hannibal’s tie hard, bringing his husband to his knees. With his free hand, Will placed the glasses on his nose, glaring imperiously. “Who gave you permission to call me _Will_ , Hannibal?”

Something bright ignited in Hannibal’s eyes, his smile tightening to a slight smirk. “Apologies, Mr. Graham.”

Will raised an eyebrow. “Do you think sorry is enough, Hannibal?”

“No sir.”

Running a hand through Hannibal’s hair, Will took a moment to admire his beautiful husband, looking up at Will with wide, dancing eyes. “I’m afraid I’ve been neglectful of your discipline, Hannibal. What’s to be done about that?”

Tracing a thumb over Hannibal’s full upper lip, he tutted softly when the doctor tried to draw it into his mouth. “Get up, bend over your desk, if you move before I finish this lure, you’ll be in a world of trouble.”

Will grinned as he watched Hannibal scramble up and toward his desk. For a man in his mid-70s, he was still pretty spry. Still, Will figured he’d have about five minutes of obedience out of the cannibal before boredom and bad knees made Hannibal start to squirm.

Will pushed the glasses up his nose, squinting at the lure, waiting for Hannibal to break.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Next Up:**  
>  Will Graham is a straight man...so why does he keep having kinky sex dreams about Hannibal Lecter?


End file.
